The Earth Turns South/Black Night

by Clement Richardson Wood

BLACK NIGHT

O somber, sorrowful black night,You rise, a bleak and solitary mournerOver the blackened hills;And all night long, from your cloud-hooded star-gold eyes,Lonely star-golden tears.Creep down your somber cheekTo nothingness.

You mourn for much:For a chill, stiffened baby,Heavy at its mother's bosom. . . .For a young woman's stilled face,Eyeless and tongueless forever. . . .For a reckless, blundering youth,Sun gold pelting in his veins,And spilling on the red-stained dust,As the shrouding smoke drifts,And the stabbing gas scatters on. . . .For twitching battlefields. . . .

For Jesus dead, and his clean wordsWounded almost to death. . . .For gentle Lincoln dead, And all day's shining sonsHunched forward frozenly,Each on his lone cross. . . .For laughter stabbed, and rapture gassed,And joy and love reviled, defiled,Each on his lone cross. . . .O sorrowing, somber black night,You mourn all these . . . and more.

All night long, from your cloud-hooded star-gold eyes,Lonely star-golden tearsCreep down your somber cheekTo nothingness.You pass, a bleak and solitary mourner,Beyond the blackened hills,As day comes on.